


Dirty Laundry

by reachfortheschuyler



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: During 5A, F/M, Fluff and Smut, in Storybrooke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 22:41:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11746674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reachfortheschuyler/pseuds/reachfortheschuyler
Summary: Rain, a wet Regina, and Robin being adorable leads to some much-needed alone time.





	Dirty Laundry

Regina is wet. Dripping. Sodden. Soaked. And embarrassingly so.

To be fair, the storm caught her off-guard. It wasn’t supposed to rain until later in the day and so she hadn’t bothered to grab an umbrella on her way out the door that morning. And when she had left the Charmings’ loft to walk home, the sky didn’t even look too threatening. But of course, the universe just loves teasing her, and so the clouds had opened up when she was a block away from her house, rain falling hard and fast and thick.

She could have poofed herself the rest of the way, but the front porch wasn’t that far and the rain really had caught her unaware, so her first instinct had been to run. She can only imagine how she had looked sprinting through a downpour in a pantsuit and heels, startling when a crack of thunder rolled through the sky.

By the time she reaches her front steps, she is soaked from head to toe, hair clinging to her cheeks, clothes drenched through. She nearly trips over the threshold of the front door, foot getting caught on the step in her haste to get inside and out of the rain, but she manages to steady herself before completely falling down.

“Regina?” Robin calls from somewhere in the house, upstairs by the sound of it. “Is that you?”

Regina looks down at herself and grimaces at her poorly state. “Yeah, it’s me,” she answers, pulling the fabric of her shirt off her stomach with a  _ schwelp.  _ There’s a puddle forming around her feet as water drips from, well, everywhere. A line of water rolls down her forehead and off her nose, dripping onto the hardwood and she scowls. She had just  _ cleaned  _ in here. Sighing, she kicks off her shoes, then shrugs out of her jacket and tosses it carelessly to the floor. If she’s going to make a mess, might as well make a good one. She pulls on the front of her shirt and twists the bottom hem, wringing out as much moisture as she can manage. Her pants are a lost cause. The fabric clings to her skin from her hips to her ankles, and she’s just about to shuck them as well when Robin comes down the stairs.

“Well, you nearly beat the rain,” he chuckles, stopping at the bottom step and leaning against the banister. He looks her up and down and crosses his arms, smiling at her disheveled state. “I told you to take an umbrella this morning.”

Regina glares at him half-heartedly and gathers her hair to one side, twisting until more water drips onto the floor.  “Now I have to mop in here again,” she grumbles. “As if I needed another thing to worry about.”

Robin’s smile goes sympathetic then and he pushes himself off the railing, arms dropping. “Sorry, love, didn’t mean to poke fun at your troubles. Here, I’ll get you a towel.” He crosses the foyer to the sitting room and she’s about to tell him that’s not where the towels are, but then he reemerges with a fluffy, folded bath towel in hand.

Regina stares at it in confusion. “Where did you get that?” she asks, reaching out to take it. “And why is it warm?”

“I was folding laundry by the piano earlier and I didn’t get a chance to put it-”

“You did laundry?” Regina interrupts, gaping at him.

Robin nods. “Yeah, I mean, I noticed there was a fair bit of clothes in the hamper and I know you’ve been so busy, so I thought-” He stops when he notices Regina’s face. “Is something wrong, love?”

She probably looks ridiculous, staring at him in wonder as she is, but she can’t help it. He did laundry for her. Because he knows how stressed out she is and for the first time since they’ve gotten back from Camelot, she hasn’t had to do something herself. She’s a mess, in way over her head and struggling to stay afloat in this ocean of shit Emma’s thrown them into and it feels like there’s so much to do and yet nothing is getting done, nothing is getting fixed. She has to find a way to save Emma, figure out how to return their memories, find Merlin, manage her sister, and keep track of the town’s new Camelotian residents. And on top of it all, she has to run a household that has doubled in size. She has to do it all. But not laundry. She doesn’t have to do laundry. Because he did it for her.

“Regina? Are you al-”

She doesn’t let him finish. She drops the towel on the floor, puddle be damned, and catapults herself at him, arms around his neck, hips bumping, mouths fusing. He grunts in surprise and stumbles back a half-step before steadying himself and wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing her flush against him. He sucks on her bottom lip and a moan gets caught in the back of her throat as his tongue slides against hers. She’s getting the front his clothes all wet, but he doesn’t seem to mind, not with his hand coasting down to grope her ass.

“Is laundry a turn on, Your Majesty?” he rasps between kisses, lips moving along her jaw and down the side of her neck.

“No,” Regina gasps, head rolling back as he nips his way to her pulse point. The hand he has on her ass slides down to grip her knee, hiking her leg up around his hip. She grinds her core against his and bites her lip at the feel of him starting to harden under his jeans. “But you are,” she continues, voice hitching in the middle.

Robin chuckles and makes his way back up to her mouth. “Well, I would hope so,” he husks, capturing her lips again.

Regina threads her fingers in his hair, tugging slightly and feeling a lick of satisfaction when he groans. She’s discovered in the times they’ve been together that he likes a bit of pain mixed in with all the pleasure. Nothing too much, but nail scratching, lip biting, and particularly hair pulling always get him going. She smirks against his mouth and tugs on his hair once more, running her tongue along his jaw, nipping under his chin and relishing in the way his Adam’s apple bobs. 

“God, love, you have to… when’s Henry coming home?” Robin manages as she drops sucking kisses down to the V of his t-shirt.

“He’s with David until dinner,” she replies coyly, pulling back up until his lips are hovering over hers. “Roland?”

“With John,” he answers, eyes trained on her mouth.

She hums and pulls on his hair again. “Convenient,” she breathes, tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip.

“Very,” Robin agrees, tongue mimicking her own. 

They stare at each other’s mouths for a second longer and then there’s not much pause after that, tongues tangling, teeth clacking, lips dancing. Regina abandons Robin's hair in favor of running her hands down his chest, slipping her fingers under his shirt and sliding her way back up. Robin groans as her nails bite into his skin and he nips her bottom lip, tugging on the hem of her blouse. He drops his hand from behind her knee, draws her hands back out from under his shirt, then slowly, painstakingly undoes one button on her blouse, another and another, working his way down her shirt until the fabric is free and open and can slide off her shoulders easily. Regina shivers as the cool air hits her damp skin and then shivers again when Robin ducks his head to start mouthing his way along the cups of her bra.

“Have I ever told you,” he breathes against her chest, “That my favorite thing in this entire world...” He slips a hand around her back and unhooks her bra, letting the straps fall down her arms. “Is the sound you make...” He pulls the garment from her skin and drops it unceremoniously on the floor. “When I do this…”

Her head is fuzzy, pleasantly distracted by Robin and his mouth and his fingers, so she’s not entirely sure she can respond coherently, but any attempt to answer is cut off by her own choked moan as his mouth captures a nipple and sucks hard. He hums against her skin, smirk growing. “Yes, that sound,” he chuckles, releasing her for only a second before going back to his task.

Regina's head falls back, her hand coming around to fist in his hair, holding him against her. Shocks of pleasure surge through her veins, running down to her toes and bouncing back up to where she is growing wetter and wetter every second. Her leg had slipped down when he pulled off her shirt, but she hikes it up again until the seam of her pants is pressed snugly to the straining front of his jeans. She groans and grinds herself against his hardness, eliciting a similar sound from him and doubling the flashes of heat consuming her core. His mouth around her nipple is heaven, tongue and teeth combining to suck and bite and pull until her jaw is slack from just how good it feels.

“Robin, fuck,” she gasps, pulling on his hair out of reflex. And sure enough, he moans against her skin, the vibrations around her tightened peak drawing out a moan of her own. Robin switches sides and Regina gasps again, pressing herself further onto his constrained erection. She needs him, right now, desperately, and she'd let him take her right here on the floor, but she is still vaguely aware of the puddle of rainwater around her feet. The ache between her thighs begs for her to just screw it all and let him fuck her into the hardwood, rain be damned, but Robin's already one step ahead of her.

He lifts his head, pulling her nipple up with him until it slips free through his teeth and then he licks his way up her neck, capturing her lips again, tongue meeting hers halfway. Both his hands move down to grip under her ass and Regina has less than half a second to register what's happening before he lifts her from the floor, her naked torso crushing against his cotton-clad chest. She wraps both her legs around his waist, hands fisting in his hair as she takes advantage of being above him, dominating the kiss that carries them from the foyer to the living room.

Somewhere in her lust-addled brain, Regina realizes she's still damp from her hips down to her ankles thanks to the rain, and if she had her wits about her, she'd tell him under no circumstances is her couch to be ruined with her wet clothes, but his hands are kneading her ass as he carries her and she can't really think about much else. Luckily, he seems to be in his right mind and he sets her down just in front of the couch, her bare feet finding purchase on the plush carpet. She hasn't stopped kissing him, could kiss him forever, would kiss him forever if she didn't need to breathe.

It's the necessity for air that has her pulling back from him, pushing him away and down to the couch with her hands on his shoulders. He sits with an ooph, and reaches to tug her atop him, but she steps back and straightens, devilish smirk crossing her face. They have all the time in the world, so why not make the most of it?

“Do you want me?” she murmurs seductively, hand skating up her stomach to her breast. She pinches and rolls her own nipple, bottom lip catching between her teeth as pleasure bounces around her nether regions. It's not his mouth, but it's still toe-curlingly good.

Robin's pupils dilate as he watches, his hand moving to palm his erection through his jeans. “Yes,” he breathes, nostrils flaring. “God, yes.”

Regina smirks again and tips her head back as she works her nipples, her other hand coming up to pinch and tug as well. “That’s a shame,” she gasps, “Since I can't join you on the couch. With my- mm- wet clothes and all.”

Robin bites his lip, palm growing more insistent as he rubs himself. “I think there's an easy solution to that problem,” he answers on a breath, eyes raking up and down her body.

“Mmm, I suppose there is,” Regina agrees, trailing her hands down her stomach to circle around the button of her pants. She slowly tugs the button free and then pulls down her zipper, hooking her thumbs in her waistband on either side of her hips. Robin inhales sharply as she starts to wiggle out of her pants, shimmying them down past her hips and then stilling, waiting, making eye contact as she lets them fall the rest of the way to the floor. She steps out of them and resists the urge to shiver, goosebumps prickling certain parts of her skin. She can't stop the flush that laces through her when she catches the way Robin is looking at her, desire and lust and animalistic want swirling in his eyes. She glances down at her black lace panties and grins. He has a weakness for lingerie, a fact she's taken advantage of over and over.

“Fuck, you're gorgeous,” he breathes, gaze sweeping over every inch of her skin.

Regina hums and saunters over to him, bringing one knee up to rest beside his thigh. “And you're entirely overdressed,” she teases, mouth hovering just by his ear. It's true- aside from rucking his shirt up a tad earlier, she has done nothing to strip him down. What a tragedy.

His fingers coast up her bare sides, cupping her breasts and squeezing lightly. “Another problem that has an easy solution,” he swallows, hands moving all over her skin, never staying in one place for too long.

Regina bites her lip when he starts rubbing a nipple again, but she bats his hand away after a moment. She won't be able to focus if he keeps teasing her like that. She kisses him again, makes good on her need to kiss him forever, musses up his hair some more. Her hands slide down his torso, over cotton-covered muscle, and clutch at the hem, tugging until he sits up just enough so she can pull his shirt up and over his head. She runs her hands all over his newly revealed skin, scraping her nails along abdominals that clench as she explores.

Robin's hands find her hips and he tries to pull her more fully onto his lap, but Regina resists and wriggles out of his hold. “Wait,” she breathes, rising from the couch completely and dropping to her knees in front of him. Robin swallows as she reaches for his belt buckle, gives a cursory rub to his erection that has to be painfully protesting against its denim confines. He bites his lip on a groan when her fingers dance along his length, hips twitching already. Regina unhooks and unloops, pulling the belt from around his waist and dropping it to the floor with a dull thunk. Anticipation is practically radiating from his skin as she reaches for his fly, undoing the button and drawing the zipper down, down, down. She pulls his pants and boxers off in one swoop and then reaches for his cock.

“Fuck,” he chokes, head tilting back as her fingers ghost up and down the length of him.

Regina smiles devilishly and grips him more fully. “You know what  _ my _ favorite sound in the whole world is?” she asks, pumping him once, twice, three times.

His Adam’s apple bobs, eyes pinching shut for a moment. “What?” he manages.

“The sound…” She spits in her palm and works him over some more. “You make…” Her thumb rubs over his tip and he inhales sharply. “When I…” She licks her lips and leans in, kissing her way up his member until her mouth is hovering just over the tip. “Do this.” She envelops him between her lips, swirling her tongue over where he's beading moisture, sucking for good measure. Sure enough, a deep, guttural groan spills from his lips, followed by a broken, “Oh,  _ fuck.” _

Regina smiles triumphantly around him and pulls up for just a moment. “Mmm, yes. That sound,” she rasps, pumping up and down. She rolls her tongue around his tip before encasing him in her mouth again. It's not often she does this, but there is nothing that gets him going faster. He's told her as much- during the year they couldn't remember, when there was nothing but sexual tension and lust between them, he'd pleasure himself to the thought of her lips and her tongue doing absolutely sinful, decadent things to him. She supposes it's only fair, considering she found the same pleasure in imagining him doing similar things to her.

Still, giving him head is not her most favorite thing in the world, any affinity for the act wearing off thanks to rough kings and greedy lovers. Robin knows that, never asks, never pushes, but she feels like he deserves it for all the times he's brought her to such mindblowing peaks. Plus, he did laundry for her. So she makes the most of it now, bobbing her head up and down, taking in a little bit more of him with each pass. What she can't reach with her mouth she works over with her hand, twisting and squeezing her fingers around him. 

She looks up at him through her eyelashes as she pulls up and feels extremely proud of herself for the look she's managed to put on his face: eyes screwed shut, brow pinched, bottom lip caught tightly between his teeth. And  _ god,  _ the sounds he makes. Grunts and moans and  _ fuck  _ and  _ oh, just like that, love.  _

His hand scrabbles restlessly from the couch to his thigh to her hair, threading through her dark locks and fisting loosely behind her nape. He doesn’t push or guide or direct, but as Regina takes him deeper, his fingers grip tighter out of reflex, pulling on her hair. She brings a hand up and pinches his thigh, earning a yelp, a “Mm, sor- fuck- sorry, love,” and a looser grip.

“It’s alright,” she rasps, pulling off him, hand still pumping up and down. And it is alright, because she knows he didn’t try it, he would never intentionally inflict pain, and a part of her likes knowing she can make him lose control of himself like that. “You were a little distracted,” she teases, flicking her tongue back and forth at his base, licking up to repeat the action over his tip.

Robin chuckles, or at least tries to, a moan interrupting him halfway through. Regina squeezes her thighs together at that, seeking any kind of pressure that might abate the ache that has grown more and more acute with each sound and reaction she gets from him. Giving him head is not her favorite thing, but damn if it doesn’t get her all hot and bothered, seeing him turn to putty in her hands or, more accurately, her mouth.

His hips jerk when she wraps her mouth around him again and hollows her cheeks, bobbing almost all the way down and then pulling back up at a torturously slow pace. She brings a hand around to cup and knead his balls, tugging and twisting slightly, just the way she knows he likes. The groan he lets out is guttural and primal and then he’s telling her to stop, stop, he’s getting too close. She can’t resist giving him one last, long suck, pulling off just before his hips buck sharply. She ghosts her fingers up and down his length lightly, waiting for him to catch his breath, rubbing her thighs together impatiently. It’s only a moment more before he reaches for her, tugging her off her knees and onto his lap.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he gasps, claiming her mouth again as she starts to grind her hips eagerly on his cock. She moans against his lips, fingers fisting in his hair as she finally relieves some of the tension wound tightly between her thighs. She still has her panties on, though they’re pretty much ruined at this point, soaked for a completely different reason than when she walked through the door. 

Robin drops a hand between her legs, fingers finding her clit, and Regina shakes, trembles as he rubs and rubs over the sodden fabric. She can’t focus on kissing him, not when he’s sending electric pleasure through her veins, can only focus on grinding against his fingers, so she breaks away from his lips with a gasp, mouth hovering over his, foreheads pressed together.

“I thought you said no wet clothes on the couch,” he husks, free hand skimming around to squeeze her rear.

“I think there’s- ah- there’s an easy… fuck, Robin- an easy solution to that problem,” Regina manages, pressing down hard against his fingers, what she can reach of his cock, anything to find some kind of friction.

“I suppose there is,” Robin agrees, leaning in to peck her lips before shifting, picking her up again and spinning around until she’s the one sitting on the couch and he’s on the floor between her legs. He presses kisses down her stomach as Regina threads her fingers through his hair, settling back against the cushions. Robin pulls her panties off unceremoniously, tossing them to lay somewhere near his discarded clothes and then kisses and sucks his way back up her thighs, hands skimming up to her hips.

“You’re so wet, love,” he groans, running his tongue along the seams of her hips.

“Always for you,” she gasps as he places a feather-light kiss to her clit. “Fuck, Robin, your tongue- please, I need- make me come on your tongue.”

He presses open-mouthed kisses all around where she is soaked and aching, avoiding the spot where she needs him most, making her squirm and wiggle, seeking his mouth, seeking relief. She’s about to tell him to hurry the fuck up, but then he suddenly runs his tongue in one flat lick from her entrance to her clit and she yelps at the unexpected pleasure. He starts laving his tongue back and forth over her bundle of nerves and her head falls back, moans escaping freely past her lips. 

“Yes, oh fuck- just like that- god,  _ fuck _ -” she chokes out, hips jerking, thighs tensing.

He swirls his tongue from top to bottom, flicking it inside her entrance before sliding back up and drawing figure 8’s over her clit. Regina fists her hand tightly in his hair, pulling on the strands and Robin groans against her, the vibrations making her breath catch in her throat. Her chest is heaving, struggling to find enough air as Robin latches his mouth around her clit and sucks until she’s moaning and babbling, pleasure mounting and expanding. 

Normally, it takes her longer to get so heated, takes more than just his mouth to get her this close, but she had already been wound up from sucking him off and maybe it’s the stress, maybe it’s the frustration of not being able to fix everything that’s gone wrong the past few weeks, or maybe it’s him, maybe it’s because he’s here and he loves her and does stupid things like laundry because he knows how overwhelmed she is and wants to help. Whatever it is, she is barreling quickly to the edge and she can’t control her hips anymore, can’t control the way they buck against his mouth as he sucks and flicks and tortures her clit and then his fingers are skirting through her folds, finding her entrance and pushing in, one and then two, thumping and curling relentlessly, pushing her closer and closer.

“God, yes- Robin- fuck! Right there- oh god, don’t sssstop- I’m so cl- ah!- close-”

“You’re so wet, my love, so tight,” Robin rasps. “Can’t wait to be inside you. God, come for me, let me hear you.” He sucks harder, tongue flicking back and forth, and then his fingers curl just right, thump perfectly against that spot, and she is gone, tension snapping, orgasm ripping through her as her hips buck against his unceasing mouth. 

She can’t make any sound at first for the intense pleasure holding every muscle hostage, but then she lets out a deep, shaking groan that changes into high-pitched gasps as he continues to pump his fingers. Pleasure ripples, pulses, practically consumes her as she rides out her orgasm on his hand and tongue, her fingers scrabbling from his hair to fist in her own. Her stomach quivers, legs tremble as she lets him keep going, lets him work her over for another minute or so, but then it becomes too much, too overwhelming and she pushes his head away, hips jerking, chest heaving in aftershock.

Robin eases his fingers out of her, his forehead resting against the inside of her thigh, breath hot against her flushed skin. He mutters something that sounds like, “Fucking gorgeous,” as Regina breathes heavily, tries to calm her heartbeat. Robin stands and leans over her, a hand resting against the back of the couch on either side of her head. “Was your orgasm to your satisfaction, Your Majesty?” he murmurs, dropping his head to run his nose along hers.

Regina hums in the affirmative and reaches up to wrap her arms around his shoulders, pulling herself up for a kiss. They both moan as she tastes herself on his lips, tongues tangling, breath mingling, his arm wrapping around her back to pull her against him until she’s barely sitting on the couch anymore. His erection is stuck between their stomachs and Robin inhales sharply when she wiggles against it, his forehead dropping to the crook of her shoulder.

“Fuck, love, I need to have you,” he breathes. “Right now.”

Regina tugs on his hair until he looks up at her and she kisses him again, parting only to whisper against his lips: “Then take me.”

Robin groans and claims her lips fiercely, climbing back onto the couch and laying her down on the cushions. She bites her lip as he takes his place between her legs and drops his hand to run through her wetness, sending dull frissons of pleasure through her veins. He strokes himself once, twice, and then lines up with her entrance, pushing in slowly, deliciously, making Regina’s walls flutter and her jaw drop open. He’s unhurried, tortuous, and Regina can feel every glorious inch of his cock as he fills her. When he’s all the way to the hilt, Robin breathes in, out deeply, eyes closing for a moment before opening again, his gaze wandering all over her flushed and naked torso. “Gods above, you're so beautiful,” he murmurs, voice tight, hand skimming along her side, across her stomach.

Regina swallows, shivers at the ghosting of his fingers over her skin, the fullness of him inside her. She knows he thinks she's beautiful, he's told her a million times and every single time, he means it, one hundred percent. But it's times like these, when they're naked and vulnerable together, debauched and disheveled, that she really feels how deeply he means them. He  _ loves  _ her, sees every part of her as beautiful, even the parts she’d rather forget, and she feels a consuming rush of affection, one that has her reaching for his free hand- even though he is balls deep inside her- and lacing their fingers together, bringing their joined hands up to rest by her head.

“Hey,” she says softly, drawing his eyes up to meet hers. “I love you.”

Robin beams and bends down to kiss her, his hips pressing against her clit and making her inhale sharply, reminding her they were on the verge of fucking very thoroughly before her emotions slowed them down. “I love you too,” he assures against her lips and then it’s Regina’s turn to smile broadly.

“Good,” she whispers, pulling her head up until her mouth is right by his ear. “Now fuck me.”

Robin’s breath washes over her shoulder in a whoosh and then he’s pulling back just enough to look at her, mouth mere centimeters from her own. “Gladly,” he rasps, reaching down to hook her knee over his elbow, bending her in a way that notches his cock just perfectly against that spot inside her, that has Regina’s head tipping back as she moans.

“God, Robin, fuck me please,” she practically begs, unable to stop herself from thrusting back against his hips.

He promises he is, he is, just give him one second to… and then he’s hooking her other leg over his other arm, spreading her wider, pushing himself deeper and ohhhh fuck, there it is.

Regina tries to gasp his name, but her voice gets caught when he starts to thrust shortly, shallow passes that rub splendidly against her g-spot. She shudders out a moan, hands scrabbling to clutch at his shoulders, nails biting into his skin. He starts moving more, pulling out farther before plunging back in and it takes away the acute pleasure that had her skyrocketing, but creates a different kind of simmer, one that will easily rise up and boil over if he keeps moving just like that.

“Fuck, Robin, yes, don’t- hnng- don’t stop,” she manages, moving her hips to meet his.

“Right there?” Robin grunts, picking up the pace.

She nods frantically, voice lost in the pleasure rolling through her, mounting so quickly, pulling her under until she can’t breathe. She can feel all of him, every bit of his cock as he pumps in, out, in, out, at a punishing pace, hitting just the right spot, making her devolve to a mess of sharp moans and strangled screams and jerking hips. She is wound  _ up  _ today, and it’s because of him, it’s all because of him, because she loves him, she loves him so fucking much, and she could live the rest of her life just like this, with him fucking her into the couch, with laundry done and folded in the other room, with them together, safe, together, with his kisses for air and his hands for support and-  _ fuck,  _ his cock for everything else. 

He shifts his arm until he can pinch a nipple, fingers tugging and rolling and doubling her pleasure as she barrels closer and closer. Regina arches up into him, forehead pressing against his shoulder, nails digging into his back, teeth biting his skin the higher she climbs.

“Are you-  _ gods _ \- are you close?” Robin grits out, mouth hot against the side of her neck, tongue swirling all over her skin.

“Yes- fuck- oh god- Robin,  _ fuck,”  _ Regina nearly screams, nails digging so hard into his back that for a millisecond she hopes she didn’t draw blood.

He bites the dip of her shoulder and then drops his hips lower until his pubic bone is rubbing against her clit with every pass and that is all she needs, all it takes, she is gone, gone so hard little bursts of light explode behind her eyelids as she shouts her orgasm into his shoulder, nails raking down his back, hips bucking wildly, all control lost to the pleasure and to him. Her muscles tremble and shake, sensations rising and spreading and melting as Robin thrusts once, twice, a third time and then spills into her, his own muscles clenching as he grunts his release into the crook of her neck.

Regina’s heart pounds in her ribcage, chest heaving as she slowly, slowly slips down from the precipice. Robin’s breath is hot against her neck, her shoulder as he tries to regain control of himself. She runs her hands up and down his back, feeling the crescent-shaped grooves and indented trails where she marked him, but nothing warm and sticky. She didn’t make him bleed after all.

Robin unhooks her one leg from over his arm and she doesn’t have the strength to control it, so she just lets it fall gracelessly onto the cushions, her toes brushing the floor. He struggles more with the other leg, being wedged against the back of the couch as it is, but he manages, albeit without much coordination. Regina winces as she bends and unbends her knee, muscles sore and joints aching from being stretched awkwardly.

Robin’s forehead is still pressed against her shoulder, his cock still buried all the way inside her, his hand still resting loosely on her breast, but she doesn’t bother to move him, not when he nuzzles against her neck, nose skimming along her jaw, breath warm against her skin. Regina hums as he presses lazy kisses up the apple of her cheek, finally moving to pull himself out of her, leaving a warm, wet path along the top of her thigh. He kisses her nose and then drops to her mouth, a soft, exhausted press of lips that nearly makes her cry from the tenderness.

“I love you,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around her back, pressing their naked bodies snugly together.

Regina steals another kiss and answers she loves him too, wishing she had the strength to tell him just how much. But she doesn’t have the strength at the moment, and neither does he apparently, his blue eyes half-lidded and heavy with sleep. She glances out the window. The rain is still coming down hard and fast, and she remembers she left quite the mess in the foyer to clean up.

“What time is Henry due home?” Robin yawns.

Regina glances at the clock on the mantle. “We’ve still got another hour or so. What about Roland? When do you need to get him?”

“Mm, John can keep him for awhile longer,” he murmurs, settling in against her again, his nose pressed to her cheek. “Relax with me for a bit?”

She has stuff to do. A lot of stuff. But the rain is cold and Robin is warm and the town has survived this long with constant impending crises, it can survive a little longer. So she nods and with a wave of her hand, a fire bursts to life in the fireplace and a blanket settles over top them, soft and cozy and warm, fresh from the dryer. She practically purrs, snuggling in closer, breathing in the foresty scent of him, the clean smell of the blanket, and lets the sound of the rain outside lull them to sleep.


End file.
